Ain't Gonna Lose You
by MaryCamille
Summary: After Castiel has broken Sam's wall, it's hard for him to keep himself upright at times. Sam passes out in a flash of Hell, and Dean swears to himself and Sam that he won't lose him again. Set after season six. Rated T for language. One-shot.


**Hey, everyone! I haven't been able to write much recently, because I've been writing insane amounts of essays for my AP English class, so I thought I'd upload a few of the drabbles on my phone for y'all to read while you're waiting for a "Five Phone Calls" update, or just if you'd like to read some more of my stuff :) I wrote these a while back, so enjoy 'em!**

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><p>Dean wiped the last of the shaving cream off and splashed water across his face. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, pressing his palms to the cold countertop.<p>

There was a small crash from the other side of the room, behind Dean.

"Sam, you all right?" he called.

No reply.

"Sam?" Dean said again, turning.

Water was spilled across the carpeted floor and Sam was sprawled out on the ground, twitching in a seizure-like state.

"Sam!" Dean rushed over to his brother and dropped to his knees, the water soaking through the denim of his jeans. "Sammy!"

He grabbed Sam by the collar and shook him. "God, not again," he begged. "Please, not again."

Sam didn't respond. His eyes were closed as he twitched and jerked. Dean forced one of his eyes open, only to find they had rolled back in his head.

"Come on, Sam!" he almost shouted. He pulled him slightly upright and shook him again. "Sam!" There was still no respond or change in Sam's state. He convulsed violently.

Dean pulled his younger brother into his arms and held onto him tightly. Tears lined his eyes. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise, it's gonna be fine."

After a moment, Sam stilled and slumped onto Dean.

"Oh, God," Dean muttered. "Sammy?"

He pulled him away so that he could see his face. Sam's head lolled to the side. Dean scrambled to feel for a pulse in Sam's neck.

When he finally felt it beat against his fingers, he sighed, relieved.

"Sam?" he said quietly. "Come on, Sammy. Wake up, man."

When Sam's didn't respond, Dean slowly and gently rested his head on the floor. He got up quickly and walked over to his duffel bag on the table, searching inside of it. After a minute of searching, Dean finally found what he was looking for - a small glass bottle Bobby had given him previously. "Only use this when it's real important," he'd said. It was potent and effective, or so Bobby had told him, and he hoped it would work. Dean wasn't sure whether Bobby had bought it somewhere or made it himself. The only thing he was sure of was that the brown liquid smelled.

He clenched the small bottle in his hand and grabbed a pillow off of one of the beds when he walked back over to Sam.

He lifted Sam's head slightly from the ground so that he could stuff the folded pillow under his head, propping it up. Dean gagged when he uncorked the small container. Yeah - this would work.

He waved it under Sam's nose quickly and corked it back up, setting it down on the floor beside them.

Sam grunted and Dean's shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes. "Thank God."

A minute passed before Sam could speak. "D-Dean?" he slurred.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here, Sammy." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed.

"What happened?" Sam questioned. "What...?"

"I don't know, man, but don't you dare do it again." Dean laughed stressfully. He rubbed his face.

"Do what?" Sam's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I turn around and you're havin' a freakin' seizure on the ground." Dean lifted his brother off the ground. "Come on, let's get you off the floor."

Dean helped Sam to sit down on his bed and handed him a new glass of water, along with a couple of pills.

"Thanks," Sam groaned.

Dean sat down on his own bed and watched his brother carefully. It was silent for a few minutes as Sam sat with his head in his hands.

"Hey, Dean?" he finally said.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

Sam stared at the ground for a moment before looking up at his older brother. "You can't protect me forever, you know."

Dean stared at him. "Yeah," he finally murmured. "But I'm gonna do what I can for as long as I can. Ain't gonna lose you, Sammy. And you got me. We're the only things keepin' each other goin'."

There was a moment of silence shared between the brothers as Sam looked at his older brother's face, which was unwavering with assurance. "Yeah," Sam replied, finally breaking the eye contact and looking down at the ground. After another minute, he spoke up again. "I'm just scared, man. I mean, how many times do you think that's gonna happen? And for how long? Until I…'

Sam's voice trailed off. Dean knew what Sam was trying to say, and he kept his face a mask of calm. "Until you what, Sam?"

"Until I die," he said quietly.

Dean stood and patted Sam roughly on the shoulder. "Come on, Sammy. Stop talkin' like that. You'll be fine."

Sam's eyes followed his brother. "No, Dean. I won't. This is gonna screw me over, one way or another. It's gonna kill me."

"Damnit, Sam," Dean said, finally breaking his mask. His eyes were stern and his jaw was set. "You're gonna be fine, okay? I ain't gonna let you die." Dean pressed his fists against the top of the dresser along the wall, making sure to be facing away from Sam. His eyes had begun to water. "So help me God, I'm not loosen' you again."

Dean's voice cracked slightly as he spoke and Sam looked down to the ground again. "Okay," he said quietly. "All right."


End file.
